Media consumption is such a part of everyday activity that it practically goes unnoticed in today’s society. We are more than consumed; we are bombarded, with advertising, music, celebrities, television, and magazines. So much so that advertisers say that their message or advertisement has to be good enough to “break through the clutter.” Though the irony of this is that by breaking through the “clutter” they are essentially creating more clutter! And what is the clutter? Is the clutter media or culture? Are media and culture one in the same, or are they counterparts of each other?
The haze surrounding these questions proves just how much consumption society is saturated with. Collecting research through my media consumption journal was actually a bit more difficult than I imagined for several reasons:
First, how would I define media? Should I stick to recording data solely on television, music, and internet? Or should I include data about advertisements I saw, stores I purchased from, and how frequently I used my cell phone? Although these are not necessarily considered media, they are certainly channels the media can go through. For example, texting might not necessarily be media, but what about word of mouth? In my media journal I noted that I received a text message from a friend informing me that the MTV Video Music Awards would be playing that night, something I would have otherwise completely forgotten about, so I turned on the TV and started watching it. Another difficulty I encountered was trying to remain aware of my media consumption. The media is such a part of my daily activities, especially as a communications major where I even have media consumption in class, that it was tricky having a more objective point of view and saying, “ok, I’m not just listening to music, I’m consuming media.”
Through my research I noticed that I routinely listen to music. The first thing I do every day on my way to class, and between classes, is plug myself into my iPod. “Plug myself into my iPod,” even that sentence shows how hardwired society has become with consumption—there is no longer silence to enjoy the sounds of a beautiful day, instead there is a soundtrack to a beautiful day. Another routine I noticed was that I rarely turned on the TV. If I watched TV it would be socially or because it was already on and I would get hooked with the programming. If I did turn the TV on myself it was usually as background noise because the room would be too quiet or because guests were coming over, simultaneously with music from my laptop. I prefer to watch my shows online—there’s less hassle, if any, with commercials and I can watch any show on my own schedule. Most of my media consumption is independently during the week, but on weekends a lot of it is social.
As previously stated, when friends come over my roommate and I usually have both the TV and music from our computers playing at the same time…sometimes even in the same room. Through this research I found that consumers (in this case I refer to consumers as people that consume media, not necessarily shoppers), especially those of my generation, tend to have a heightened sense of selective hearing. Both the TV and iTunes can be playing, but if the music is good or if the TV is not playing something entertaining enough, then we only pay attention to the music. But we can listen in such a way that we forget the TV is even on, even if it is loud enough to compete with the music.
One of the things I have found most interesting is that I find myself wanting to be consumed with media and pop culture. For the past couple years I avoided television, rarely listened to “popular” music, preferring “un-cool” music, and my only real sense of pop culture came from word of mouth or reading the tabloid covers while in line at the grocery store. Even on the internet, I would only visit the same sites. This year, however, I find that I have turned into a media junkie. I want to watch all the new movies; I want to watch the video music awards. I want to download the songs every one dances to while discovering “up and coming” artists, and I even click link after link to follow the buzz on various “culture objects”. This is what surprises me most about my media usage.
I am not surprised about how much media I consume because I know that, this year especially, I have been doing a lot of consumption, but rather the fact that I want to be consumed. I usually download music through various web channels, but if I buy a song or CD on iTunes it is because I like the artist enough to want to support them. It is my way of saying, “Please keep making more music,” which in a way relates to the articles and videos we have been going through in class. Although consumers are so inundated with media and products, consumers have become savvier as to what they want to purchase or be involved in, and what they want to ignore. There is a constant need for “new” because not all consumers gravitate towards the same things; therefore there are always new markets to explore.
The term "culture" can be defined as “the best of what has been said and thought.” Upon reflection, I have come to understand culture in a way that I hadn’t seen it before. Culture is deeply rooted—today’s culture is not a new culture, it is just an evolution of earlier times. It seems to me that the great cultural objects of today have been inspired by someone or something else. This only includes those objects for mass consumption, not for example the latest invention of robot technology (yet), but rather something that has completely transformed society and the way we interact, such as the creation of the internet in the early ‘90s or probably the most recent being the iPhone. Rarely do we now see a truly original idea.
I was recently watching a football game on TV with a couple friends, and instead of saying “my friends are probably going crazy about this game” or something of the sort, one of them said, “Facebook is probably blowing up right now!” In this comment he was referencing to his friends on Facebook getting really competitive and excited about the game and probably making comments about it through Facebook to other friends. Instead of living in the moment, we are constantly thinking about what another person may be saying or how we are going to blog about it with others. It is as though we have more than one life going on. Twitter is another great example of this. It is like we are trying to make things happen, trying to have a more exciting life, so we can have better “tweets” or posts. This reflects culture as a pattern of behavior.
So what does this mean? If people are creating more exciting lives for themselves in order to have a life that everyone wants to read about online, and this is a pattern of behavior influenced by media, then what has been lost? Or perhaps, instead, what has been gained? Have consumers become more artificial or have consumers become “cooler”? I have come to the conclusion that media and culture are counterparts of each other; one cannot survive without the other. However, this distinction is becoming increasingly blurred. My reflection on media consumption has not answered many questions for me, but has instead raised questions on a much more profound level, forcing me to question the world I live in and even what person I may possibly become as a media-driven consumer.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
New Adventures on the InterLife
From here on out I plan to begin new ventures-- I still want to blog, it is very therapeutic and allows my memories to stay alive for the one day I might forget. I'll admit I have a fear of forgetting the wonderful moments life has given me.
I may keep this blog for my more personal rants, and other travel experiences, but I want to start a new one for my more professional self. I'll write about design, my graphic projects, internships, jobs etc.
I also plan to be on Twitter soon. I had Twitter for about a second and I deleted it because I didn't like it, but now I'm starting to see the advantages so we'll see. After this post I'm going to check out Flickr because I have been putting that off for a while. It's not that I don't like the internet, I just prefer to live in my actual life--experiencing nature, reading books, catching up on my shows--and not my life on the internet. But inevitably, the lines between life and life on the internet have become an intersection, where your actual life is on the internet. For God's sake--my GRANDFATHER, who already uses the internet as his playground, is being cohersed into getting a Facebook page!
Unfortunately, life has come to this: if you're not on the net you do not exist.
I may keep this blog for my more personal rants, and other travel experiences, but I want to start a new one for my more professional self. I'll write about design, my graphic projects, internships, jobs etc.
I also plan to be on Twitter soon. I had Twitter for about a second and I deleted it because I didn't like it, but now I'm starting to see the advantages so we'll see. After this post I'm going to check out Flickr because I have been putting that off for a while. It's not that I don't like the internet, I just prefer to live in my actual life--experiencing nature, reading books, catching up on my shows--and not my life on the internet. But inevitably, the lines between life and life on the internet have become an intersection, where your actual life is on the internet. For God's sake--my GRANDFATHER, who already uses the internet as his playground, is being cohersed into getting a Facebook page!
Unfortunately, life has come to this: if you're not on the net you do not exist.
My Newfound Playground: Recap of my experience in Italy
I know this is about 2 months late, but I feel like this blog deserved a decent ending:
No matter what reason we have for going somewhere new—vacation, business, studies, volunteering—a little piece of our own personal world does not come back quite the same. Suddenly, consciously or unconsciously, our eyes and minds are looking at life from a new perspective. What we once recognized to be a beggar becomes a gypsy, or what we once called ice cream transforms into gelato.
By the end of my travels in Italy, I was not looking at the world through a pair of rose-colored glasses, I was looking at the world through a kaleidoscope. It was filled with colors, shapes, and details I never expected or thought of but was thrilled to find. People love to say expect the unexpected, but if something is unexpected, how can you expect it? The best thing to do is: not expect anything. Easier said than done, right? But on this trip, that is probably one of the most helpful tips I have learned. It does not set you up for disappointment, and best of all, when you do not have expectations your eyes are wide open for any possibilities.
For spring break my friend and I decided to go to southern Italy, exploring a little bit of the boot and then continuing to Sicily. The morning before leaving I had a lot to do. Sure, it was spring break, but as usual I left my responsibilities for the last minute. However, everything went smoothly and I got everything done. Then, things took a turn for the worst—I missed my train, and consequently, so did my travel partner waiting for me. So, we bought another train ticket, and after about an hour delay, we were off to Praia, a small beach town in Calabria*.
But for some reason, probably my newly gained patience, none of this seemed to bother me. I was finally going to the beach, to bask in the sun and finally not have to worry about wearing a jacket! Upon arriving, around 7 PM, we were in for our first surprise. Wind was blasting that night, comparable to a monsoon but without the rain. It was blowing so hard in fact, that we heard the wind knocked over a tow truck on the highway and fell on top of a passing car. Needless to say, I felt like I was going to be blown away!
When we arrived at the Praia train station, Martina, the owner of Onda Road Hostel, was there to pick us up. At first I had imagined an older woman, no younger than 35 at least, but when this beautiful, long haired, 20-something girl introduced herself in perfect English, after easily scoping us out from the other five people waiting, I no longer knew what to expect. We drove through town and turned onto a gravel road lined with private homes protected by barking dogs. Soon after, we stopped at one of the house’s front gate. Upon entering we were greeted by a massive, furry dog named Sylia, and we were confused to be standing in the middle of a family’s living room. It was cozily decorated with warm peach colored walls, an elegant floral print in one corner leading to the stairs, buddha paintings, and stone-textured floor tiles. Martina led us up to what she introduced as our bedroom, a private double perfectly situated next to a bathroom and her parent’s bedroom.
“There are two girls staying upstairs. Come and I’ll introduce you.” Thank goodness! We were relieved to not be the only ones staying in what felt to be an awkward situation. When we made our reservation for this hostel, we were not expecting a five star hotel, but we did expect a bed & breakfast type of place. We did not imagine that it would actually be someone’s home, but it ended up being a very positive experience despite our initial awkwardness. We saved a lot of money since we did not have to worry about food, and every day Martina would drive us around to see the local sites. Because it was low season and we were the only guests at the hostel, Martina and her family made us breakfast and lunch everyday, and we usually split dinner costs with the other two girls. It was especially beneficial for me because the two girls we met were going to be in Amsterdam the same days I was! I was originally going to be alone my first two days in the Netherlands, so I felt a little worried about being in a country I had planned very little for and where I could not speak the language. We all became good friends those three days in Praia, and unexpected vacation experiences transformed into lovely rewards.
Lack of expectations also allows you to keep an open mind. What you might have once thought to be trashy, might now feel to be artsy. For example, our second week in Rome, my girlfriends and I planned a day trip to Tivoli, a one-hour train ride from Rome. On my way to the train station, I had to transfer from line A to line B. I always used the A-line so for the 1st time I’d be taking the B-line, and I was surprised to find that the B-line is a whole other world entirely. It is a little darker and there are entire metro cars covered in graffiti, some tasteful and others not so much. I wondered how people cover BOTH sides of train? Do they sneak in at night and jump tracks? Many may think the B-line is trouble, vandalized by hoodlums, but I had a different take on it. I preferred to think of the graffiti as street art. As my friend Katie put it, it is, “ghetto fabulous.” People on B-line even dress differently. The A-line is upper east side NY—well put together, structured outfits, with stilettos—while the B-line is more Long Island—you see more colors, eccentricity, and has an 80’s hip-hop/rock edge. But, again, this depends on your perspective. Perspectives can even change regarding your style preferences.
I think one of the best ways to acclimate to a new culture, and also a great way to not get automatically pegged as a tourist (hence, to not get ripped off) is by dressing like the locals*. Although it is true that it is what’s on the inside that counts, I find that what’s on the outside counts just as much, especially in Italy, one of the world’s fashion hubs. In the beginning my friends would get weird stares as they walked to class in their sweats and t-shirts, and strange men would more frequently harass the girls when they looked obviously out of place. It is difficult to pinpoint what exactly the “American look” is, but it is obvious that this look is not made in Italy (unless accompanied by a tourist). Thus my personally style has also greatly changed. I still used all my old clothes, and of course bought some new pieces, but with lack of funds the newer purchases weren’t many. So, I had to reassemble my own.
The first thing to keep in mind is that lots of accessories and a pair of sunglasses is key. I never owned a bracelet until I lived in Italy, and now I have a collection I use almost every day. I bought a couple things from stores, but a lot of the most fun, unique things are found in markets or from street vendors*. Layering is also very popular no matter what season, and remember: black never goes out of style. One thing I learned to do, and had a lot of fun with, was mixing and matching my clothes. I’d put together pieces that I normally would have never paired, like a preppy skirt with tights, a metal-studded belt, hoop earrings, and heels. Speaking of heels, don’t try to be a hero—cobblestones are common in Rome and it seems like only Italian women are immune to them.
I love wearing heels, but I was forced to buy my first pair of sneakers in Rome. I was excited because Italian sneakers are so pimped out with patterns, colors, and textures, but I was also worried because metallics were in style this season, and I knew that that particular style was not for me…at least not for my first pair. I went to a lot of stores and found shoes I kind of liked, but I felt a lot of them were overpriced*. When I was about to give up I fell in love with a pair of orange, white and black, leopard-print glossy kicks that I could dress up or down for only 20 euros*. Putting together the “Italian look” does not have to mean a stack of bills; it just takes a little creativity and willingness to step out of your comfort zone. Do not be afraid to take because you never know how you might reinvent yourself, or how the people around you might bring about that transformation.
The final and possibly most important aspect of this trip was my encounter with religion. As a Catholic, I have always believed in God. I believed He existed and I believed that there must be some kind of greater power at work. However, I never knew what this meant or how to apply it. If anyone ever asked, yes, I believe in God. I am Catholic, right? However, only recently have I really learned what this meant.
As a child, I was never forced to go to church, and honestly I was never that interested. Sure, I knew certain stories from the Bible, and I had a somewhat broad overview of my religion. At one point in my sophomore year of high school, I started taking private bible study classes at home, feeling embarrassed for not knowing what everyone else seemingly “naturally” knew about the bible, God, and Christianity in general. From there I decided I wanted to make God a part of my life, but how?
To me, religion was always something very private; I never felt comfortable talking about it. I felt embarrassed about my ignorance, but I understood the basic gist of what being a good Christian meant, and I would occasionally pray. So, how could I, with no background, feel a strong connection with God? This was when my search for God began. I took Bible study classes and I applied to a Jesuit college, hoping to find God in a religiously affiliated institution. There, I took theology and philosophy courses, which were required but I really enjoyed. Yet none of these things helped me feel more connected. Why was my search not working? I certainly gained a little knowledge, but I felt that in order to really find God, I should feel some kind of passion within me. Shouldn’t I? It was no longer enough for me to believe for the sake of believing.
Finally I came to Rome—the Catholic hub of the world. As a student who would be spending an entire semester in a country with a foreign language, and had never been away and alone from home for more than a month, my search for God took a small pause. It remained in the back of my mind while I visited the cathedrals and churches, but I was mostly there to appreciate the art. Then, something unexpected happened: I was invited to lunch.
An old friend living in Rome invited me to lunch with, whom she likes to call, her second family. I met the lady of the house, Jane, her husband, Peppo, and their eleven-year-old daughter. I immediately felt so welcome and comfortable in a way I rarely felt at a stranger’s home. I learned that this family has a strong Christian faith, conducting bible studies at their house, and that Peppo, who was once an actor is now a missionary. We had lunch, jumped on their trampoline, talked, and watched a movie. Through this amazing family I learned that everything is possible through God. As we left their home to commute back to our own homes, I felt something I had never felt before—I felt a rush of happiness, appreciation, thankfulness, love, and the sudden urge to cry. I realized at that moment that I had finally found God. What was a fun and simple afternoon turned into a most unexpected and wonderful realization, confirming my view that everything happens for a reason. I searched for God in bible studies, I searched for God in a catholic university, I searched for Him in cathedrals and churches, but I finally found Him in people. This religious awakening has been the most personal and most influential piece of my travel experience.
My study abroad adventures in Italy have made me feel that the world could suddenly and literally become my playground. I have a greater understanding and appreciation for how the world works even though I only got a taste of a small piece of it. We can choose to change something about the world, but more often than not, the world changes us. It makes us a little stronger, a bit more self-sufficient, and if we’re lucky a bit more competent. On my three-month trip to Italy I was fortunate enough to gain all three.
No matter what reason we have for going somewhere new—vacation, business, studies, volunteering—a little piece of our own personal world does not come back quite the same. Suddenly, consciously or unconsciously, our eyes and minds are looking at life from a new perspective. What we once recognized to be a beggar becomes a gypsy, or what we once called ice cream transforms into gelato.
By the end of my travels in Italy, I was not looking at the world through a pair of rose-colored glasses, I was looking at the world through a kaleidoscope. It was filled with colors, shapes, and details I never expected or thought of but was thrilled to find. People love to say expect the unexpected, but if something is unexpected, how can you expect it? The best thing to do is: not expect anything. Easier said than done, right? But on this trip, that is probably one of the most helpful tips I have learned. It does not set you up for disappointment, and best of all, when you do not have expectations your eyes are wide open for any possibilities.
For spring break my friend and I decided to go to southern Italy, exploring a little bit of the boot and then continuing to Sicily. The morning before leaving I had a lot to do. Sure, it was spring break, but as usual I left my responsibilities for the last minute. However, everything went smoothly and I got everything done. Then, things took a turn for the worst—I missed my train, and consequently, so did my travel partner waiting for me. So, we bought another train ticket, and after about an hour delay, we were off to Praia, a small beach town in Calabria*.
But for some reason, probably my newly gained patience, none of this seemed to bother me. I was finally going to the beach, to bask in the sun and finally not have to worry about wearing a jacket! Upon arriving, around 7 PM, we were in for our first surprise. Wind was blasting that night, comparable to a monsoon but without the rain. It was blowing so hard in fact, that we heard the wind knocked over a tow truck on the highway and fell on top of a passing car. Needless to say, I felt like I was going to be blown away!
When we arrived at the Praia train station, Martina, the owner of Onda Road Hostel, was there to pick us up. At first I had imagined an older woman, no younger than 35 at least, but when this beautiful, long haired, 20-something girl introduced herself in perfect English, after easily scoping us out from the other five people waiting, I no longer knew what to expect. We drove through town and turned onto a gravel road lined with private homes protected by barking dogs. Soon after, we stopped at one of the house’s front gate. Upon entering we were greeted by a massive, furry dog named Sylia, and we were confused to be standing in the middle of a family’s living room. It was cozily decorated with warm peach colored walls, an elegant floral print in one corner leading to the stairs, buddha paintings, and stone-textured floor tiles. Martina led us up to what she introduced as our bedroom, a private double perfectly situated next to a bathroom and her parent’s bedroom.
“There are two girls staying upstairs. Come and I’ll introduce you.” Thank goodness! We were relieved to not be the only ones staying in what felt to be an awkward situation. When we made our reservation for this hostel, we were not expecting a five star hotel, but we did expect a bed & breakfast type of place. We did not imagine that it would actually be someone’s home, but it ended up being a very positive experience despite our initial awkwardness. We saved a lot of money since we did not have to worry about food, and every day Martina would drive us around to see the local sites. Because it was low season and we were the only guests at the hostel, Martina and her family made us breakfast and lunch everyday, and we usually split dinner costs with the other two girls. It was especially beneficial for me because the two girls we met were going to be in Amsterdam the same days I was! I was originally going to be alone my first two days in the Netherlands, so I felt a little worried about being in a country I had planned very little for and where I could not speak the language. We all became good friends those three days in Praia, and unexpected vacation experiences transformed into lovely rewards.
Lack of expectations also allows you to keep an open mind. What you might have once thought to be trashy, might now feel to be artsy. For example, our second week in Rome, my girlfriends and I planned a day trip to Tivoli, a one-hour train ride from Rome. On my way to the train station, I had to transfer from line A to line B. I always used the A-line so for the 1st time I’d be taking the B-line, and I was surprised to find that the B-line is a whole other world entirely. It is a little darker and there are entire metro cars covered in graffiti, some tasteful and others not so much. I wondered how people cover BOTH sides of train? Do they sneak in at night and jump tracks? Many may think the B-line is trouble, vandalized by hoodlums, but I had a different take on it. I preferred to think of the graffiti as street art. As my friend Katie put it, it is, “ghetto fabulous.” People on B-line even dress differently. The A-line is upper east side NY—well put together, structured outfits, with stilettos—while the B-line is more Long Island—you see more colors, eccentricity, and has an 80’s hip-hop/rock edge. But, again, this depends on your perspective. Perspectives can even change regarding your style preferences.
I think one of the best ways to acclimate to a new culture, and also a great way to not get automatically pegged as a tourist (hence, to not get ripped off) is by dressing like the locals*. Although it is true that it is what’s on the inside that counts, I find that what’s on the outside counts just as much, especially in Italy, one of the world’s fashion hubs. In the beginning my friends would get weird stares as they walked to class in their sweats and t-shirts, and strange men would more frequently harass the girls when they looked obviously out of place. It is difficult to pinpoint what exactly the “American look” is, but it is obvious that this look is not made in Italy (unless accompanied by a tourist). Thus my personally style has also greatly changed. I still used all my old clothes, and of course bought some new pieces, but with lack of funds the newer purchases weren’t many. So, I had to reassemble my own.
The first thing to keep in mind is that lots of accessories and a pair of sunglasses is key. I never owned a bracelet until I lived in Italy, and now I have a collection I use almost every day. I bought a couple things from stores, but a lot of the most fun, unique things are found in markets or from street vendors*. Layering is also very popular no matter what season, and remember: black never goes out of style. One thing I learned to do, and had a lot of fun with, was mixing and matching my clothes. I’d put together pieces that I normally would have never paired, like a preppy skirt with tights, a metal-studded belt, hoop earrings, and heels. Speaking of heels, don’t try to be a hero—cobblestones are common in Rome and it seems like only Italian women are immune to them.
I love wearing heels, but I was forced to buy my first pair of sneakers in Rome. I was excited because Italian sneakers are so pimped out with patterns, colors, and textures, but I was also worried because metallics were in style this season, and I knew that that particular style was not for me…at least not for my first pair. I went to a lot of stores and found shoes I kind of liked, but I felt a lot of them were overpriced*. When I was about to give up I fell in love with a pair of orange, white and black, leopard-print glossy kicks that I could dress up or down for only 20 euros*. Putting together the “Italian look” does not have to mean a stack of bills; it just takes a little creativity and willingness to step out of your comfort zone. Do not be afraid to take because you never know how you might reinvent yourself, or how the people around you might bring about that transformation.
The final and possibly most important aspect of this trip was my encounter with religion. As a Catholic, I have always believed in God. I believed He existed and I believed that there must be some kind of greater power at work. However, I never knew what this meant or how to apply it. If anyone ever asked, yes, I believe in God. I am Catholic, right? However, only recently have I really learned what this meant.
As a child, I was never forced to go to church, and honestly I was never that interested. Sure, I knew certain stories from the Bible, and I had a somewhat broad overview of my religion. At one point in my sophomore year of high school, I started taking private bible study classes at home, feeling embarrassed for not knowing what everyone else seemingly “naturally” knew about the bible, God, and Christianity in general. From there I decided I wanted to make God a part of my life, but how?
To me, religion was always something very private; I never felt comfortable talking about it. I felt embarrassed about my ignorance, but I understood the basic gist of what being a good Christian meant, and I would occasionally pray. So, how could I, with no background, feel a strong connection with God? This was when my search for God began. I took Bible study classes and I applied to a Jesuit college, hoping to find God in a religiously affiliated institution. There, I took theology and philosophy courses, which were required but I really enjoyed. Yet none of these things helped me feel more connected. Why was my search not working? I certainly gained a little knowledge, but I felt that in order to really find God, I should feel some kind of passion within me. Shouldn’t I? It was no longer enough for me to believe for the sake of believing.
Finally I came to Rome—the Catholic hub of the world. As a student who would be spending an entire semester in a country with a foreign language, and had never been away and alone from home for more than a month, my search for God took a small pause. It remained in the back of my mind while I visited the cathedrals and churches, but I was mostly there to appreciate the art. Then, something unexpected happened: I was invited to lunch.
An old friend living in Rome invited me to lunch with, whom she likes to call, her second family. I met the lady of the house, Jane, her husband, Peppo, and their eleven-year-old daughter. I immediately felt so welcome and comfortable in a way I rarely felt at a stranger’s home. I learned that this family has a strong Christian faith, conducting bible studies at their house, and that Peppo, who was once an actor is now a missionary. We had lunch, jumped on their trampoline, talked, and watched a movie. Through this amazing family I learned that everything is possible through God. As we left their home to commute back to our own homes, I felt something I had never felt before—I felt a rush of happiness, appreciation, thankfulness, love, and the sudden urge to cry. I realized at that moment that I had finally found God. What was a fun and simple afternoon turned into a most unexpected and wonderful realization, confirming my view that everything happens for a reason. I searched for God in bible studies, I searched for God in a catholic university, I searched for Him in cathedrals and churches, but I finally found Him in people. This religious awakening has been the most personal and most influential piece of my travel experience.
My study abroad adventures in Italy have made me feel that the world could suddenly and literally become my playground. I have a greater understanding and appreciation for how the world works even though I only got a taste of a small piece of it. We can choose to change something about the world, but more often than not, the world changes us. It makes us a little stronger, a bit more self-sufficient, and if we’re lucky a bit more competent. On my three-month trip to Italy I was fortunate enough to gain all three.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Trains on a Boat
Me: “This is taking forever. I hope we get there on the scheduled time.”
Katie: “Well, this is included in the time.”
Me: “Why aren’t we moving?!”
Katie: “We are on a boat.”
Me: “When are we going to start moving?”
Katie: “We are!”
Me: “Oh...” (confused face)
Katie: “That is why we are rocking!”
So that was the conversation Katie and I had during the moment that I was completely oblivious to the fact that our train, including another, had embarked itself on a boat. There are two entire trains on a boat! I had no idea how or when this happend...I hadn’t even fallen asleep. So, when Katie told me this bit of mind boggling information, the affect that took over me, as mind boggling information usually does, was I did not know how I felt about it. Should I be more worried on an airplane than I should be about being on a train and simultaneously on a boat? We are on our way to Sicily and I knew we would eventually have to cross over a small piece of ocean, but I thought there would be a bridge or something...note to self: never doubt the “something”. The lights just went out; great.
Katie: “Well, this is included in the time.”
Me: “Why aren’t we moving?!”
Katie: “We are on a boat.”
Me: “When are we going to start moving?”
Katie: “We are!”
Me: “Oh...” (confused face)
Katie: “That is why we are rocking!”
So that was the conversation Katie and I had during the moment that I was completely oblivious to the fact that our train, including another, had embarked itself on a boat. There are two entire trains on a boat! I had no idea how or when this happend...I hadn’t even fallen asleep. So, when Katie told me this bit of mind boggling information, the affect that took over me, as mind boggling information usually does, was I did not know how I felt about it. Should I be more worried on an airplane than I should be about being on a train and simultaneously on a boat? We are on our way to Sicily and I knew we would eventually have to cross over a small piece of ocean, but I thought there would be a bridge or something...note to self: never doubt the “something”. The lights just went out; great.
Surprises in Praia
The morning before leaving I had a lot to do. Sure, it was spring break, but as usual I left my responsibilities for the last minute. However, everything went smoothly and I got everything done. Then, things took a turn for the worst—I missed my train, and consequently, so did my travel partner waiting for me. So, afer we bought another train ticket (although we later found out this was unnecessary) we were off to Praia, a small beach town in Calabria, about thirty minutes later (not including the extra thirty minute delay). But for some reason, none of this seemed to bother me. I was finally going to the beach, to bask in hte sun and finally not have to worry about wearing a jacket! Upon arriving, around 7 PM, we were in for our first surprise. Wind was blasting that night, comparable to a monsoon but without the rain. It was blowing so hard in fact, that we heard the wind knocked over a tow truck on the highway that then fell on a passing car. I hope everyone was okay. Needless to say, I felt like I was going to be blown away!
When we arrived the Praia train station, Martina, the owner of Onda Road Hostel, was there to pick us up. At first I had imagined an older woman, no younger than 35 at least, but when this beautiful, long haired, 20-something girl introduced herself in perfect English, after easily scoping us out from the other five people waiting, I no longer knew what to expect. We drove through town and turned onto a gravel road lined with private homes protected by barking dogs. Soon after we stopped at one of the house’s front gate. Upon entering we were greeted by a massive, furry dog named Sylia, and we were confused to be standing in the middle of a family’s living room. It was cosily decorated with warm peach colored walls, an elegant floral print in one corner leading to the stairs, buddha paintings, and stone textured floor tiles. Martina lead us up to our bedroom, a private double perfectly situated next to a bathroom and her parent’s bedroom.
“There are two girls staying upstairs. Come and I’ll introduce you.” Thank goodness! We were relieved to not be the only ones staying in what felt to be an awkward situation.
When we arrived the Praia train station, Martina, the owner of Onda Road Hostel, was there to pick us up. At first I had imagined an older woman, no younger than 35 at least, but when this beautiful, long haired, 20-something girl introduced herself in perfect English, after easily scoping us out from the other five people waiting, I no longer knew what to expect. We drove through town and turned onto a gravel road lined with private homes protected by barking dogs. Soon after we stopped at one of the house’s front gate. Upon entering we were greeted by a massive, furry dog named Sylia, and we were confused to be standing in the middle of a family’s living room. It was cosily decorated with warm peach colored walls, an elegant floral print in one corner leading to the stairs, buddha paintings, and stone textured floor tiles. Martina lead us up to our bedroom, a private double perfectly situated next to a bathroom and her parent’s bedroom.
“There are two girls staying upstairs. Come and I’ll introduce you.” Thank goodness! We were relieved to not be the only ones staying in what felt to be an awkward situation.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Dolce Perspective
Besides the romance of the language, the fierce fashion, and the welcoming cheek kisses, what else do we love about Italians? Yup, you probably got it right: the food! Italians are known for their heavenly cuisine, and although it may seem fattening, that is a price we are willing to pay. Although, you may be surprised as to how much healthier REAL Italian food can be. Sure, the meat takes a little getting used to, but food in Italy is so fresh, and it is certainly not contaminated with all the preservatives and dyes that American food is famous for. However, it is not just about the food. Italian cuisine is also about the culture that absorbs the meal. In order to truly appreciate Italian gastronomy in all its fresh delectibility, it is important to first learn how to eat like an Italian.
Let’s start with the basics—when to eat. Although many will tell you that Italians only eat at certain times of day, this is, in my opinion, completely false. If you are hungry, you are hungry. Who says that cultural immersion should make your stomach grumble? Our mediterranean friends do not seem to gain weight because they stick to a strict eating schedule, they probably do not gain weight simply because they eat differently from their anglo-saxon counterparts. When Italians want a snack, many opt for a fruit, which is usually still attached to the vine and can only be found in a grocery store during its actual season. It also helps that the meat was slaughtered a day before it made it to the plate, and that the Italians are not afraid of a little walking. Ok, maybe I slightly overexaggerated on the meat thing, but you get my point. So, what is the general eating schedule? First, there is breakfast, of course.
Oh, breakfast. In Italia, as in most other parts of the world, breakfast is usually from 7:00 to 10:00 A.M. Doctors are known to say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, but why is it then that in this boot-shaped peninsula, breakfast does not seem to get the appropriate appreciation or delight that it deserves? Breakfast is practically non-existent, acknowledged with only a cafè (known to Americans as an espresso) with a sweet croissant, or similar bread pastry treat. Maybe Italians are more evolved than Americans and have come to terms with the fact that there is no longer time to eat it properly, as Americans still struggle to fit a healthy breakfast into their schedules. The States are loaded with Ihop’s and Denny’s to pay homage to this commonly favorite meal, either to make up for the lack of it or to relish in its goodness—bacon, eggs, OJ, toast, pancakes, syrup, grits, milk, coffee by the gallons—but in Italy none of this exists. Breakfast is down to bare minimum.
However, once in a while a lucky pedestrian may be able to find “American Breakfast Served” advertised outside of a bar or restaurant. Although I have not personally tried these specials, since I usually run into them in the evening, they seem like a decent price for the food being offered; usually bacon, eggs, toast, maybe pancakes. By the way, do not underestimate bacon because it is virtually impossible to find bacon, as we know it, in Italy. The lack of having an option for breakfast as American culture has deemed appropriate, has taken its toll. I have caught myself waking up unusually early (around 9:00 A.M.) to prepare myself a nice morning meal. Fortunately though, lunch is a bit more filling.
Pranzo, which usually includes a nice siesta on the side, is from about 13:00 to 15:00 (yes, the Italians use military time instead of A.M. or P.M., and you are lucky if you find an open convenience store during these hours). A typical lunch usually conists of a cappuccino, juice, or maybe even a wine juice box, with a panino or pizza, especially for those on-the-go or not looking to spend too much. But be careful, panini are not automatically grilled, you usually have to specify that you want the sandwich caldo, or hot. I found life-altering panini in Milan, at a cozy, Irish-pub-type restaurant called Panino Giusto, and giusto it was! They had over 50 kinds of panini, and you cannot go wrong ordering any of them. I actually would order two at once because as soon as I finished the first I immediately craved another one. Besides, there were so many options—how could I possibly choose one? Needless to say, I was there everyday during my weekend in Milan. Luckily, in 2008, the chain made a debut in Rome in the centrally located historic center. Panino Giusto also has other locations in Italy, such as Brescia and Porto Cervo, and even in non-Italian countries, like Istanbul and Tokyo. We can only hope for a couple to pop up in the U.S.!
As for the pizza, it is difficult to find bad pizza in Italy, unless you eat it at the airport. The cool thing about the pizza is that you tell the server, if it is a fast food spot, about how big you want the slice (a hand measurement will do). Then, they weigh the slice in order to give you a price, so you know you are getting exactly what you pay for. Also, resist the urge, as arduous as it may be, to request substitutions. The pizza comes as is, no questions asked. Another interesting detail is how the pizza is cut; these pizza professionals use scissors! At first, I thought it strange. But then, I realized the practicality—why break your arm trying to cut the crust when you can more easily and quickly snip through it? Many find this quite amusing. A popular local spot amongst my group is Pizza Colonna, about three doors to the left of Lepanto metro station. The twenty-something-year-olds that work there are a friendly bunch that know how to make a mean pizza, and there is always a large variety to choose from. Pizza Colonna also has blissful balls of fried goodness called suppli. This concoction holds tomato-sauced rice fortified by mozarella and engulfed by a fried crust. I am practically a suppli addict, and I am not ashamed.
This then brings us to my favorite meal of an Italian day: dinner! First, let me start by saying that whatever plans are created after dinner should be made at least three hours after the scheduled dinner time. This meal is at least a two hour event, between the hours of 20:30 to 23:00 (or 8:30 P.M. to 11:00 P.M.). Do not expect to find one Italian soul, besides the employees, in a restaurant before 9:00 P.M. eventhough restaurants usually open at eight. Also, dinner in Italy is not rushed, and it certainly does not include one plate. It is rather served in slow courses, and each accompanied with a glass of wine, so expect to order the liter jug, and do not feel guilty. The average Italian drinks about 25 gallons of wine each year.
So, to start things off, as in the States, you can always order an appetizer, or antipasti, with the options for bruschetta, chips, eggplant (very popular in Italy), etc. Typically the complimentary bread will come out with the second course, but if it should come out with or before the first, it is said that one can always pick out an American if the bread is eaten before the meal. But, like I said before: if you are hungry, you are hungry. Next, the first course is usually a pasta or even a whole pizza pie, which is not impossible to eat on your own, so do not be discouraged. The crust is made very thin and the ingredients are not heavy; there are a lot of veggie options and the four-cheese is a common favorite. The third course then consists of meat or fish. It is interesting that the meat is always seperate; it never comes accompanied with any other food. This will always be an unanswered mystery.
I asked my Italian host sister why the meat is not eaten with the pasta or rice—she looked at me blankly and simply responded that she did not know. The best meat I have had in Italy, and can be comparable to an expensive meat dish in the United States, has been in Piazza San Lorenzo at a popular spot called Porca Vacca. The beef is inexpensive, succulent, and savory. Customers can order the meat with various seasonings, but it is important to note that in most restaurants the meat is simply cooked medium, there is usually no option on how it is done. To top off the meal, but before reaching dessert, Italians will eat a salad. This may seem strange but it feels nice finishing a heavy start with something light and refreshing. Oh, and by the way, Ranch dressing is never an option, although the balsamic comes highly recommended if offered. Finally, complete your meal(s) with a palatable dessert and a coffee.
All these rules that accompany the gastronomical aspect of Italian culture may seem a bit daunting, however it is truly a lifestyle. I have been living in Italy for three months and I have grown to love it—I feel healthier, more active, and I have slowed down to actually appreciate and savor the food I eat, even when I am on the go, as though each bite is somehow different from the first. In fact, adopting some of these “eccentricities”, such as the scissor pizza-cutting or salad at the end of the meal, could begin an interesting new perspective on life. Italian dining is not simply a matter of eating good food, the culture that encircles this cuisine creates an experience for both the diner and the taste buds.
Let’s start with the basics—when to eat. Although many will tell you that Italians only eat at certain times of day, this is, in my opinion, completely false. If you are hungry, you are hungry. Who says that cultural immersion should make your stomach grumble? Our mediterranean friends do not seem to gain weight because they stick to a strict eating schedule, they probably do not gain weight simply because they eat differently from their anglo-saxon counterparts. When Italians want a snack, many opt for a fruit, which is usually still attached to the vine and can only be found in a grocery store during its actual season. It also helps that the meat was slaughtered a day before it made it to the plate, and that the Italians are not afraid of a little walking. Ok, maybe I slightly overexaggerated on the meat thing, but you get my point. So, what is the general eating schedule? First, there is breakfast, of course.
Oh, breakfast. In Italia, as in most other parts of the world, breakfast is usually from 7:00 to 10:00 A.M. Doctors are known to say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, but why is it then that in this boot-shaped peninsula, breakfast does not seem to get the appropriate appreciation or delight that it deserves? Breakfast is practically non-existent, acknowledged with only a cafè (known to Americans as an espresso) with a sweet croissant, or similar bread pastry treat. Maybe Italians are more evolved than Americans and have come to terms with the fact that there is no longer time to eat it properly, as Americans still struggle to fit a healthy breakfast into their schedules. The States are loaded with Ihop’s and Denny’s to pay homage to this commonly favorite meal, either to make up for the lack of it or to relish in its goodness—bacon, eggs, OJ, toast, pancakes, syrup, grits, milk, coffee by the gallons—but in Italy none of this exists. Breakfast is down to bare minimum.
However, once in a while a lucky pedestrian may be able to find “American Breakfast Served” advertised outside of a bar or restaurant. Although I have not personally tried these specials, since I usually run into them in the evening, they seem like a decent price for the food being offered; usually bacon, eggs, toast, maybe pancakes. By the way, do not underestimate bacon because it is virtually impossible to find bacon, as we know it, in Italy. The lack of having an option for breakfast as American culture has deemed appropriate, has taken its toll. I have caught myself waking up unusually early (around 9:00 A.M.) to prepare myself a nice morning meal. Fortunately though, lunch is a bit more filling.
Pranzo, which usually includes a nice siesta on the side, is from about 13:00 to 15:00 (yes, the Italians use military time instead of A.M. or P.M., and you are lucky if you find an open convenience store during these hours). A typical lunch usually conists of a cappuccino, juice, or maybe even a wine juice box, with a panino or pizza, especially for those on-the-go or not looking to spend too much. But be careful, panini are not automatically grilled, you usually have to specify that you want the sandwich caldo, or hot. I found life-altering panini in Milan, at a cozy, Irish-pub-type restaurant called Panino Giusto, and giusto it was! They had over 50 kinds of panini, and you cannot go wrong ordering any of them. I actually would order two at once because as soon as I finished the first I immediately craved another one. Besides, there were so many options—how could I possibly choose one? Needless to say, I was there everyday during my weekend in Milan. Luckily, in 2008, the chain made a debut in Rome in the centrally located historic center. Panino Giusto also has other locations in Italy, such as Brescia and Porto Cervo, and even in non-Italian countries, like Istanbul and Tokyo. We can only hope for a couple to pop up in the U.S.!
As for the pizza, it is difficult to find bad pizza in Italy, unless you eat it at the airport. The cool thing about the pizza is that you tell the server, if it is a fast food spot, about how big you want the slice (a hand measurement will do). Then, they weigh the slice in order to give you a price, so you know you are getting exactly what you pay for. Also, resist the urge, as arduous as it may be, to request substitutions. The pizza comes as is, no questions asked. Another interesting detail is how the pizza is cut; these pizza professionals use scissors! At first, I thought it strange. But then, I realized the practicality—why break your arm trying to cut the crust when you can more easily and quickly snip through it? Many find this quite amusing. A popular local spot amongst my group is Pizza Colonna, about three doors to the left of Lepanto metro station. The twenty-something-year-olds that work there are a friendly bunch that know how to make a mean pizza, and there is always a large variety to choose from. Pizza Colonna also has blissful balls of fried goodness called suppli. This concoction holds tomato-sauced rice fortified by mozarella and engulfed by a fried crust. I am practically a suppli addict, and I am not ashamed.
This then brings us to my favorite meal of an Italian day: dinner! First, let me start by saying that whatever plans are created after dinner should be made at least three hours after the scheduled dinner time. This meal is at least a two hour event, between the hours of 20:30 to 23:00 (or 8:30 P.M. to 11:00 P.M.). Do not expect to find one Italian soul, besides the employees, in a restaurant before 9:00 P.M. eventhough restaurants usually open at eight. Also, dinner in Italy is not rushed, and it certainly does not include one plate. It is rather served in slow courses, and each accompanied with a glass of wine, so expect to order the liter jug, and do not feel guilty. The average Italian drinks about 25 gallons of wine each year.
So, to start things off, as in the States, you can always order an appetizer, or antipasti, with the options for bruschetta, chips, eggplant (very popular in Italy), etc. Typically the complimentary bread will come out with the second course, but if it should come out with or before the first, it is said that one can always pick out an American if the bread is eaten before the meal. But, like I said before: if you are hungry, you are hungry. Next, the first course is usually a pasta or even a whole pizza pie, which is not impossible to eat on your own, so do not be discouraged. The crust is made very thin and the ingredients are not heavy; there are a lot of veggie options and the four-cheese is a common favorite. The third course then consists of meat or fish. It is interesting that the meat is always seperate; it never comes accompanied with any other food. This will always be an unanswered mystery.
I asked my Italian host sister why the meat is not eaten with the pasta or rice—she looked at me blankly and simply responded that she did not know. The best meat I have had in Italy, and can be comparable to an expensive meat dish in the United States, has been in Piazza San Lorenzo at a popular spot called Porca Vacca. The beef is inexpensive, succulent, and savory. Customers can order the meat with various seasonings, but it is important to note that in most restaurants the meat is simply cooked medium, there is usually no option on how it is done. To top off the meal, but before reaching dessert, Italians will eat a salad. This may seem strange but it feels nice finishing a heavy start with something light and refreshing. Oh, and by the way, Ranch dressing is never an option, although the balsamic comes highly recommended if offered. Finally, complete your meal(s) with a palatable dessert and a coffee.
All these rules that accompany the gastronomical aspect of Italian culture may seem a bit daunting, however it is truly a lifestyle. I have been living in Italy for three months and I have grown to love it—I feel healthier, more active, and I have slowed down to actually appreciate and savor the food I eat, even when I am on the go, as though each bite is somehow different from the first. In fact, adopting some of these “eccentricities”, such as the scissor pizza-cutting or salad at the end of the meal, could begin an interesting new perspective on life. Italian dining is not simply a matter of eating good food, the culture that encircles this cuisine creates an experience for both the diner and the taste buds.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Bay of Naples
This past weekend (Sat-Mon) was incredible. The program took us on a trip to the Bay of Naples, where you can find the Amalfi Coast and where the Limoncello always flows.
The first day we went to the Archaeological Museum of Napoli. That was pretty cool because we got to see up close and personal all the sculptures and mosaics we saw in text books. We also got to walk into the "Secret Room", where only men were allowed to enter during ancient times because it is a room filled with erotic art. Sex was a big part of ancient Roman society; it was not tabboo for them as it is for us. There was a lot of sexual humor. Afterwards we explored the ruins of Pompeii. It is such an interesting story. For those of you who don't know it, I will summarize:
The Bay of Naples was, and is, so beautiful that it was once for the ancient Romans what the Hamptons are to us. A lot of the towns on the Bay were filled with resorts and villas, it was a get-away from the city. However, Pompeii was a working city, highly populated with middle and lower class citizens. When Mt. Vesuvius errupted in 79 a.d. it was one of the biggest blasts in history, and the mountain literally blew its top off, which is why it now seems to have two peaks. Pompeii was pretty much right next to the mountain when this happened. The ash and pumus rained over the city for about 6 days and destroyed everything. Luckily, 90% of the 20,0000 population managed to escape.
After Pompeii we went to Sorrento, which was where we slept. We went out and partied that night, got Dr. Dawson, the program director, drunk and it was all around a successful night. The next morning, my friend, Katherine, and I took a trip to Capri, an island off the coast of Sorrento. We woke up early, had a filling breakfast, and took the ferry to Capri. We could not have asked for a more gorgeous day. We did not have a set plan except for that we wanted to get to a nice beach spot and just relax under the sun. This little idea took us through an adventure: On our way to find a relaxing beach spot, we stumbled upon a local soccer game. We felt like the locals and stayed there and watched for about 20min. I cheered for the underdogs as usual.
The first day we went to the Archaeological Museum of Napoli. That was pretty cool because we got to see up close and personal all the sculptures and mosaics we saw in text books. We also got to walk into the "Secret Room", where only men were allowed to enter during ancient times because it is a room filled with erotic art. Sex was a big part of ancient Roman society; it was not tabboo for them as it is for us. There was a lot of sexual humor. Afterwards we explored the ruins of Pompeii. It is such an interesting story. For those of you who don't know it, I will summarize:
The Bay of Naples was, and is, so beautiful that it was once for the ancient Romans what the Hamptons are to us. A lot of the towns on the Bay were filled with resorts and villas, it was a get-away from the city. However, Pompeii was a working city, highly populated with middle and lower class citizens. When Mt. Vesuvius errupted in 79 a.d. it was one of the biggest blasts in history, and the mountain literally blew its top off, which is why it now seems to have two peaks. Pompeii was pretty much right next to the mountain when this happened. The ash and pumus rained over the city for about 6 days and destroyed everything. Luckily, 90% of the 20,0000 population managed to escape.
After Pompeii we went to Sorrento, which was where we slept. We went out and partied that night, got Dr. Dawson, the program director, drunk and it was all around a successful night. The next morning, my friend, Katherine, and I took a trip to Capri, an island off the coast of Sorrento. We woke up early, had a filling breakfast, and took the ferry to Capri. We could not have asked for a more gorgeous day. We did not have a set plan except for that we wanted to get to a nice beach spot and just relax under the sun. This little idea took us through an adventure: On our way to find a relaxing beach spot, we stumbled upon a local soccer game. We felt like the locals and stayed there and watched for about 20min. I cheered for the underdogs as usual.
Next we walked through a vineyard resting just underneath a cliff, and after many winding turn finally made it to the "beach". I use quotation marks because the beach has no sand, but rather pebbles, and instead of being a large expanse of sand and water, there was really almost no place to sit or lay except on this little dock. It was really cool though. We were the only ones there except for this old man making a net. We layed under the sun for about an hour and a half. I dipped my toe in the water, yes just my toe, not my foot, because the water was freezing!Afterwards we got hungry. We took the bus up to Capri, the actual center of the island, and had lunch, while overlooking the island. We then ventured off and found a garden, which was on a cliff, where we sat for about two hours talking and overlooking the ocean. From the cliff we could actually see the spot where we sat at the beach haha. We took the ferry back at 6pm after magical, relaxing day. We had dinner that night and just stayed up talking.
The next morning, Monday, we were off to Naples. The city is so eclectic and it is actually very New York in feeling. Naples is really a city as we know a city to be. It was condensed with buildings, kind of dirty and random shops. Rome is more clean, and although it is a city it is very green. Naples is not green. It was charming though and I would like to go back and really get to know it. The people in Naples are the stereotypical Italians we see in the movies...it was so cute lol. And I think the guys in Naples are probably better looking the guys in Rome...hard to believe.
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